


Fires From Hell Freeze Over, Eventually

by taylorswift



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodbyes, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Where this supposed AOU bullshit is met with resistance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorswift/pseuds/taylorswift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scarlett read the script, and then read it again, then read it again, and finally threw it at a wall. She misplaced her faith in Joss to carry her character right, and she misplaced even more faith in Jeremy when she stormed in with guns blazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fires From Hell Freeze Over, Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> Request from Tumblr, born from a text post I saw that said the whole reason Joss gave us that other ship that no one wants was because of frosty Rennerson.

I misplace my trust in Joss more often than not. Call it one of my more fatal flaws, but I do. His tirades about strong female character representation and giving the fans what will excite them the most–or so he believes, he’s a self-proclaimed man of the people. I buy into it occasionally and almost always live to regret it. Some man of the people he is; once the people see what volumes of utter bullshit he’s deemed acceptable, they’ll be arriving at his door in the hundreds, donning their pitchforks and torches.

I blink several times, wondering if what I’m seeing in front of my eyes is all just a horrible nightmare. Hell, it’s got to be. Joss is stupid but he’s not  _that_  stupid. Or is he? I shake my head, shutting my eyes tightly and opening them a few seconds later. Nope, still there. Joss must really want a premature, painful death.

My first instinct is to call Jeremy, but knowing how well that’ll go over with him is not a battle I’m looking to fight today. Connection has been incredibly scarce between the two of us ever since we wrapped up on the last Avengers movie and knowing–or not knowing, I’ve yet to decide which would be the lesser of two evils–how he still stands when it comes to me and the idea of our characters as a thing isn’t really a rabbit hole I’d like to chase. Too tangled, too confusing, and too much like a black hole. I need to be one hundred percent focused on this, and this only when I rip out Joss’ vocal cords with my freshly manicured nails. So, instead of calling up the one other person who has anything to do with this and would protest it as hard as I know I will, I choose to call up my favorite confidant.

“Have you read this complete bullshit?!” I shriek into the phone the minute I hear the line connect.

“Mm, hey to you too, Scar,” Chris mumbles into the phone. “What’s this about bullshit?”

“It’s the Age of Ultron script, that’s what it is!” I’m pacing back and forth around my sun room, occasionally shooting the still open script on my table glares so hot that I’m praying it’ll magically burst into flames. “Have you read it?”

“Scar, baby, let’s get real. I’m not going to read that script from cover to cover until they give us the week notice,” he informs me, in that same lazy voice of his. I groan.

“So you’re totally unaware as to why the hell Renner’s married in this movie, and I’m flirting with Ruffalo, of all people? I mean god, nothing against him or anything, but I’d rather have to kiss you again. Repeatedly.”

I can hear the smirk he’s wearing through the phone as he chuckles. “Knew all those kisses over the years would start to get to you.”

“Shut up, this is serious.”

“Dead,” he agrees, and I sigh. I’m starting to wonder why I chose to call him, of all people.

“You are of absolutely no help to me, you know,” I inform him matter-of-factly.

“Then why did you waste your time calling me? Call Renner or something, he might care a little more than I do.” He pauses, continuing after the lightbulb finally turns on. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t said two words to him after whatever little rendezvous you two had at the end of the press tour. Or was it after the Walk of Fame?”

“Is that relevant?”

“Obviously not, seeing as how you’re still on the defensive just at the mention of it. I mean damn, Scarlett, what, you expect for it to happen again the moment you lay eyes on each other?”

“I’m not really interested in making a series of bad choices, and seeing as how that’s all he motivates…”

Chris laughs. “Scared of a little spark?”

“Call ending now.”

“Thanks for your confirmation. It’s greatly appreciated.” I hang up the phone, huffing irritably. If my conversation with Chris was any indication as to how the real thing will transpire, I’m going to have to rethink my battle strategies. All of which cannot involve Jeremy, or I might as well start waving my white flag now.

I high tail it up to Joss’s office the next morning, the fires from hell keeping my fury aflame, and murder dancing in my eyes. I’m sort of the prelude to the angry mob he’ll have on his doorstep after this movie goes down the way it does. His secretary doesn’t even bother asking who I am or if I have an appointment, I must look terrifying enough that she just gestures towards the door to his office. Slamming the door open and letting it hit the wall, Joss casually looks up to see the storm that’s arrived at his doorstep. My eyes narrow into slits, ready to bless him out for all he’s worth in front of his scared-to-death secretary, but I’m stopped as my gaze falls over the very last thing that I would have expected to be joining us.

Jeremy Renner.

He looks over his shoulder to get a glimpse of me, and turns around almost immediately. Ah, great, he knows I’m pissed about this fiasco known as the Age of Ultron script. Judging by the look on his face, that’s the reason he’s here too. Well, this will be fun.

“Scarlett, nice of you to join us,” Joss says nonchalantly, as if he’s oblivious to the fact that I’m here to crucify him. “Come on in?“

"No need to ask me twice on that one,” I growl, grabbing the door from behind me and letting it slam shut as I stalk over to his desk.

Jeremy, who’s in the seat across from Joss’s desk, keeps flitting his gaze in my direction. I have to be a sight; when murder is on my agenda, I tend to look as though I rose straight from hell. I catch his eyes right before he has time to look away, raising both my eyebrows in question. “I take it you’ve seen the script?” I ask him coldly, to which he nods.

“Good, so you agree with me that this whole Clint being married thing is a load of bullshit!”

Joss leans back in his chair, both hands folded, while Jeremy lets out a long sigh. “Told you, man,” he mumbles, and I whip my head around to look at Joss.

“Told you what?”

“That you’d freak out when you read the script,” Jeremy explains wearily. “I told him how much Clint and Natasha meant to you, how you were pulling for them to end up together.”

I stare at him as though he’s lost his mind. “Well  _yeah_ ,” I spit out harshly, my death glare bouncing back and forth between him and Joss as I go off on my little tirade. “I mean, do you know how many hints I purposefully dropped during Winter Soldier, and all of the interviews I did for it? The necklace, talking about him in every goddamn interview I got…like, really? Are we really about to throw this away for some random ass marriage? All the fans that are going to absolutely flay you, if I don’t, because they’ve invested so much into believing we’d get together? What happened to listening to our fans? None of them said, ‘ _Oh, hey Joss, let’s just give Clint a wife and a kid because there’s obviously nothing there with Natasha, nothing at all?!_ ’”

“It’s the Ultimates line, surely you remember us talking about that,” Jeremy adds on, and in the midst of my temper tantrum, I round on him.

“Are you not going to do something about this?”

He throws up his hands carelessly, shrugging. “No point in changing it now, what’s done is done.”

I’m not quite sure who it is that I’m staring at bewilderedly, because it’s sure as hell not Jeremy. The Jeremy I know doesn’t just lie down and accept things the way they are. Jeremy bitched in front of every person with a microphone about how he hardly spoke in the first movie, Jeremy complained about how small a role he had to everyone who would listen, Jeremy was the one who told Joss that if he didn’t have a bigger part or more scenes with me in the sequel then he would raise all hell on press days. This Jeremy is just choosing to accept the fact that all of our chemistry–be it good, bad, or dangerous–is going to go to waste, all of our little hints about our characters being involved, the necklace I’d even started wearing again because I expected to keep it on this movie, all of it being completely shut down by one stupid, inconsistent decision. I shake my head at him, disgusted. “No, not done, case not closed. Need I remind the both of you that we got nominated for Best Chemistry before for one little two minute scene in the last movie? How are you going to explain the necklace the Russo Brothers let me wear, the obvious arrow charm on it dangling for the whole damn world to see; can’t go back and change that, can you boss?”

Joss rubs at his chin sheepishly. “We’ll figure something out, I suppose.”

I blink several times, eyes opening at an unnatural width. If I look as strung out as I feel, then my purpose is being served. “You  _suppose?!_ ”

“Look, Scarlett, just—“

I whirl around, jabbing my finger in an accusatory motion towards Jeremy’s chest. “Don’t you even  _say_  it. Why are you just sitting here, letting this fly right over your head? This involves you too.”

“I know that, but—“

“No, do you not remember about how we always said we’d request more screen time in the next movie together, because of how much fun we had last time? How much we genuinely enjoyed each other’s company? How excited we were for the sequel because it was ‘you and me, in it to win it’? God, what happened to that? Are you  _that_ scared of a little spark?” I indict, the words Chris said earlier to me coming out of my own mouth in a much more spiteful tone.

Joss clears his throat, reminding me that he’s still here. “Listen, I know you’re upset with this, but this was what was decided. It worked best for everyone involved, and seeing as how my previous theory has been proved true—“

I shake my head, not following along. “What theory?”

“The theory I had that you two weren’t getting along like you used to. I wasn’t going to force chemistry on anyone.”

“Force…” I throw my hands up in exasperation, having a hard time believing the things I’m hearing. “Joss, with as much respect I have left for you intended, where the hell are you getting the idea that you’d have to force chemistry? We…we have more chemistry than an open flame and a fucking aerosol does!”

Joss raises a hand in attempt to silence me. “That might have been the case last movie, Scarlett.”

“Could be the case this movie too, but we wouldn’t know that, now would me?” I grumble.

Joss doesn’t look too pleased with me, but I’m not sure he was too happy when I came busting down doors either. “That’s enough.”

“Joss—“

“I told you this was how it would go,” Jeremy sighs from his corner, and if looks could kill, I would have sent him about twelve feet under, just out of spite.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t think you had anything to do with this conversation, seeing as how you couldn’t care less!”

“ _Enough_!” Joss finally roars, and mine and Jeremy’s eyes snap in the direction of our now infuriated boss. He gestures towards the two of us, the look on his face a snide ‘I told you so’ remark within itself. “ _This_  was what I was talking about. You two can’t even go five minutes being in the same room without lunging for each other’s throats.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it now?” Jeremy asks, and I roll my eyes.

“Well, you would know, that’s all you’re capable of pointing out. Takes one to know it, right?”

“Exhibit A,” Joss sings. “Look, I’m not going back and changing the script to introduce a romance plot that’s frankly, a waste of my time. You want to have a romance with Renner? Do a rom-com together, hook up with him yourself.” My face goes blood red, and I want nothing more than to melt into the floor. “There is no more discussion about this. It’s done.”

I stand there, unable to move. I’m having trouble believing that any of this is even reality. How in the world have we gone from Joss rooting us on and telling us that he couldn’t wait to explore our relationship in future movies, to being the same person who cut it off at the waist? He nods at Jeremy. “Come back later, Renner, we can talk then.” I turn to head out as well—I personally can’t wait to give Jeremy a piece of my mind once we’re no longer in the confines of Joss. He stops me. “Scarlett, you mind staying for a minute?”

Great, being told to stay behind in the principal’s office. I lower my head as Jeremy brushes past me, door closing just as quickly as he opened it and scurried on out. Joss gestures towards an empty chair with the nod of his head. “Have a seat.”

I sit down stiffly, awaiting the news that he’s firing me here on the spot, but as soon as I do so, Joss heaves out a long sigh. “I know you’re upset about this.”

“Oh really, what clued you into that one?”

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” he tells me.

“Don’t I?”

“I was not the one who had the final say in going with the Ultimates route,” Joss interjects, trying to rush the words out before I bite again. I raise an eyebrow, unsure of what he means by that.

“Could have fought the studio too, you know, this is  _your_  baby after all—“

Again, he shakes his head. “Scarlett, that’s not what I’m trying to tell you. The studio didn’t care one way or another which route I went. What I’m trying to tell you is that my decision was…influenced by a request.”

“English, please.” I snap, still ultimately confused as to what it is he’s trying to tell me.

“Jeremy was the one who told me to go through with it.” I blink several times, the information not processing. There’s no way. No way in  _hell_  that he would be the one to actually suggest this. This has to be some sick joke, one that I’m waiting for Ashton Kutcher to appear and tell me I’m being punked. But there is no confetti or hidden cameras; instead it’s just a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach and too many puzzle pieces connecting in all the right places. Jeremy being so lax about all of this, not bothering to fight it—why would he want to resist the very thing he suggested?

I fall back in the chair, crestfallen. “W-why?” I stammer out.

Joss shrugs. “I’m not quite sure. He just said that he didn’t want whatever happened last time to repeat itself, whatever that means.” It all makes sense now; Chris Evans is a psychic genius, and maybe things were a lot simpler than I made them out to be. He doesn’t want to go dancing down the same road we did last time, he’s scared of whatever there still is between us. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way; he didn’t want for me to tell you the reasoning why, but seeing as how you came in here with guns blazing, I figured I owed it to you.”

“Yeah,” I say absentmindedly, thoughts spiraling around a whole other planet. “Guess you did.”

The car ride home is spent with sunglasses on, trying to disguise the tears that keep slipping down my face, against my will. I never would have thought I’d cry over something like this; I’m not sure if I’m heartbroken over not getting the story line I’d been praying for. Maybe it’s got to do with me wanting that story line for all of the wrong reasons, and now I’m disappointed that I’m not getting it. Not because I’d been virtually made into a fool by the volumes the script spoke in terms of the relationship status, me parading around in the necklace and all but winking after all the hints I could possibly drop about the Clint and Natasha potential, making it that much more obvious. No, not that, but because of Jeremy. Because Jeremy didn’t want anything to do with me romantically, in any universe. Because it’s still too much for either of us.  

When I get home, I sigh shakily and dial a number I haven’t dialed in years. I pause as it rings, waiting with bated breath for someone to pick up. There’s the familiar click, and then a husky voice says, “Hello?”

“I know it was you,” I blurt out, wasting no time in getting to the point.

It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting for me to come out with him, due to the profound silence on the other end. “Ah…fuck,” he stutters nervously.

“You know, if you didn’t want our characters to go past their platonic partnership, I wouldn’t have minded. I just wished you would have said something. Before I got the necklace included, before I came marching down there and causing a scene,” I say. “I wouldn’t have been mad. I would have understood.”

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I wait patiently for his response. “Look, I—I’m sorry, Scarlett. But I just, I couldn’t go through all that again.”

I laugh sardonically. “What, pairing us together or pairing  _us_  together?”

“Scarlett…”

“No,” I cut in. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I get it, really. You’ve got Ava and…whatever her name was.”

“Sonni,” he corrects, but I keep going.

“And I’m engaged. And pregnant.” There’s a ringing silence on the other end, and it hits me that I’ve yet to bring that up to him, or anyone aside from Joss and my family. I suppose if we’re laying all our cards out on the table, might as well throw down my whole hand.

“Congratulations,” he says in a strangled voice. “I uh, I didn’t expect…yeah, congratulations.” Pause, once more. “Is it, you know, his?”

“Yeah, it is.” I don’t mean for it to come off as snide, but I guess Running my hand through my hair, I sigh. “So what does this mean? For our characters? I mean, there went any and all chances of us getting time together on set.” Ha, yes, like that’ll even happen at the rate this is going. We’re deteriorating rapidly; I’m not even sure he and I will want to face each other by the time filming rolls around.

“We still have scenes together,” he reminds me halfheartedly.

“Won’t be the same.”

“Nothing ever is, not twice.”

“I still wish you would have told me,” I whisper softly, feeling the despair slowly sink into my veins. It feels like I’m saying goodbye to him all over again, but this time for good, and my heart is breaking in a dozen little pieces. “I don’t know…I just, I can’t do this.” It’s the truth; I can’t handle going through other people just for us to get in a fight, being surprised when we hear any sort of news about the other. We’re either on the same line of the page or in different books completely.

“Is this goodbye, Scarlett?” he finally asks me, and there’s a heavier meaning behind it. He’s not just asking about the end of this phone call, and we both know it.

“I don’t know…” I admit, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I can’t let him know I’m crying, can’t even give off the impression that I might be upset by this. “Do you think it is?”

“Maybe it’s better this way. Easier.”

“Less painful,” I say coldly, mocking his attitude towards all of this. If he picks up on it, he doesn’t show it.

“Maybe it’ll help things.”

“Maybe.”

“…goodbye, Scarlett,” he says into the phone after a moment, monotonously, like there’s no feeling there to it. I’m slightly taken aback at how easily it flows out of his mouth, at how easy he can just say it and not feel a damn thing. It’s astonishing at how terrified of one little spark—or one little fire that’s set all of hell ablaze, and how scared of it is that he’s willing to put it out like a light by any means necessary. I can hear the sounds of my heart falling apart, the anvil inside of me plummeting down to the depths of my stomach. I want to be sick. I want this phone call to end, to curl up under my comforter and cry until tomorrow comes. Anything to feel the wrenching pain of losing more than just a cast mate, losing my best friend. All because we’re a bunch of cowards.

“Did that help?” I choke out.

“…I, I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

_Click._


End file.
